‘Just do me a favour and stay away from him. I don’t trust him.’ Jasmine tried to impart how serious she was with her expression, but Felicity could barely focus.

‘Don’t trust him, or don’t trust me?’

‘You’re not listening to me. I think he’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘You’re paranoid,’ Felicity retorted, lying back down.

Jasmine considered telling her about that night at the fair with Mr Morrell, or showing her the photograph, but she didn’t know what she would do. Felicity never let things go. She would want to know everything and Jasmine couldn’t be sure that she would be entirely discreet about the whole thing. Felicity wasn’t quite the detective she thought she was, particularly as she was usually half cut. When she looked across, Felicity had fallen asleep. Jasmine snuggled in and watched the TV; the repetition of the theme tune and gags she had seen a hundred times before were soothing. She didn’t realise until she was out of her own house how tense she had been there. The fact that she felt more relaxed here, with the sound of Felicity’s heartbroken mother blasting power ballads through the house, just went to show how bad things were at home. The muffled sound of Whitney Houston accompanied by canned laughter served as a lullaby, Jasmine snuggling into Felicity and closing her eyes, just for a moment.

When Jasmine woke up she was alone. Felicity’s door was open and she could hear shouting coming from the kitchen. She couldn’t tell whose voice was whose; the power dynamic in this house was not the norm, as Felicity and her mother were more like resentful siblings than mother and daughter. There was a lot of love there – Jasmine had seen it – but there was a lot of anger, too. On both sides. It was getting dark outside. She tied her hair into a loose bun and picked up her phone.

‘Jasmine?’ her dad answered.

‘Could you come and get me from Felicity’s house?’

‘It’s barely ten, I thought you wanted picking up at midnight.’

‘Felicity’s asleep already and I’d rather come home,’ Jasmine lied.

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘I haven’t, I promise.’

‘OK, well, I’m still not home yet. We thought we had a bit longer. I’ll call Tim to come and get you. Just keep an eye out. Text me when you’re home.’

Before Jasmine had time to object, he was gone.

Lights appeared on the street outside Felicity’s house as Tim pulled up in his car.